


Sage Warren and the Blue Moon

by orphan_account



Series: Sageverse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: American wizard school, Developing Friendships, First Crush, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, Self-Discovery, Self-Insert, concrit not wanted - Freeform, contains: a literal magic school bus, honestly just a wish fulfillment fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sage is a turbulent child who cries at every mishap, throws chairs when things don't go her way, and likes books much better than people. And she also makes things explode. One day, a mysterious man tells her that maybe, she's not the only little girl who explodes things. At Toledo Witches' Institute, Sage will make friends, learn magic, and improve and discover herself.[Year 1]
Relationships: Sage Warren (OC) & Florence Kingston (OC), Sage Warren (OC) & Nate Pearson-Gamp (OC)
Series: Sageverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627678
Kudos: 3





	Sage Warren and the Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Sage Warren was a ten-year-old girl with plain features, hair that was brown but almost blond, and eyes that were grey but almost blue. Although she was too young for a diet, she could really use one, as she was rather chubby - she was close to having to wear adult sizes already. She had stained clothes and a scowl, an unremarkable part of the line of twenty children on their way to math class.

Nobody else in the line liked to talk to her, so instead, she thought about the book she was reading. It was a thick novel about cats that fought each other (the series was called Warriors, after all). What would she be like as a warrior cat? At the age of ten, she’d likely be an apprentice. Would she want to be a warrior or a medicine cat? She didn’t want to fight anyone, but she was squeamish about blood, so she couldn’t see herself as a healer. Yes, she’d be training to be a warrior. Her warrior name would be Sagewing, because her name was Sage, and she was peaceful like a bird...

As the class arrived back at their main classroom, she was jolted out of her thoughts. Her normal teacher taught math, science, and ELA, and they’d switch with the partner class for social studies. Special subjects, such as music and gym, were taught in completely different areas of the school, by specialized teachers.

She found her desk and sat down at it, opening the top and taking out her workbook. The cover was filled with doodles of girls and cats alike. Those were her two favorite things to draw, next to dogs.

The teacher started writing on the board. Looking at what was already there, it looked like the class was reviewing multiplying fractions, which Sage already knew how to do, so instead she took out her Warriors book and read. Soon, the droning on and the background chitter-chatter was much quieter than the sound of swiping claws and snappy retorts in her head.

_A gray tabby was on a warrior patrol. They were all scouting the border for any unusual scents. Suddenly, the tabby caught wind of a cat from an enemy clan. Trespasser!_

“What did you get for number four?” the girl next to her asked.

“Nine and three-quarters,” responded Sage.

_When the patrol turned around, they were met by a swarm of enemy cats. They were outnumbered. The gray tabby ran to call for backup, while the rest of them stayed and fought._

“Put away your book, or I will have to hold it until the end of the day,” said the teacher.

She growled and buried herself inside her desk. It wouldn’t make a difference, but it felt safe somehow.

_The bloodthirsty enemy cats used tactics nearly against the warrior code, while the patrol, without their leader, hopelessly tried to fend them off. An enemy raised his claws, buried them deep in a patrol member’s belly, and--_

“Give me that.” Mrs. Randazzo took the book straight out of Sage’s hands and didn’t even bother to mark the page. The blatant disregard made Sage want to hiss like a warrior cat herself.

She felt a tingling in her veins, a sense of desperation.

“Just let me read a minute more!” she whined. “I just need to find out what happened!”

But Mrs. Randazzo didn’t budge. Instead, she turned as if to walk away with the book, but something else happened: it shot out of her hands, landing back into Sage's shaking arms. 

Everyone was staring. Her classmates shared murmurs amongst themselves, and Mrs. Randazzo turned back around on her heel to investigate the scene. 

"Hmm," she said, peering at the book. "Interesting." 

But Sage had completely forgotten the warrior patrol. She wanted to explain herself, but if she told anyone she had occasional magic powers, they'd surely lock her up in a mental ward. Magic was the only explanation, though. How else would the book have flown of its own volition? 

The teacher once again turned back to walk to her desk. "I must have accidentally thrown it back. Do pay attention, everyone." 

She hadn't even taken back the book.

\----

Math and science passed, and soon, it was time for music class. Sage was still shaky, nervous that she'd do more magic and that this time it wouldn't be swept under the rug like last time. 

Unfortunately, she hated music. 

Undoubtedly, Sage would have to play instruments that she couldn’t figure out how to use, or to sing high notes that she couldn’t hit. Music was the worst class at school, she figured, next to PE. The core classes were interesting, intriguing, and intelligent, not to mention that she could actually understand them and score well in them. One needed a certain level of dexterity to play the trumpet, for example, but not to learn about how mountains were formed, or about the Renaissance, or how to multiply fractions.

The class arrived at the door, and Sage inwardly sighed.

Music class was slow and torturous. The classroom was large and boring, with white walls, white tiled floors, and brown chairs arranged in rows. Every noise echoed against the hard surfaces. It really was not a good design for a music room. The teacher was a particularly unpleasant, shrill-voiced woman, and never lenient. She had to sing incredibly high notes in an incredibly corny song, and the other boys and girls weren’t helping matters.

During the break in between songs, a blonde, freckled girl named Kylie was giggling with her friend. They were whispering about something. Maybe they were bullies.

“Sage...” Sage thought she heard. It was hard to tell, but there was definitely an A sound. Were they talking about her?

Kylie’s friend leaned toward the blonde’s ear. “...crybaby...”

She flushed. They were definitely talking about her. Crybaby. They were calling her a crybaby.

“All she does...”

 _All she does is cry and whine?_ Is that what Kylie was going to say?

And as much as Sage hated to admit it, Kylie was right. She was already close to tearing up, and her face grew even redder after the snide comment. With pressure in her head, she prepared for the second song, trying her best not to sniffle. She couldn’t prove Kylie and her friend right.

The intro music began, and the teacher began to wave a ruler like a conductor’s stick.

The song was incredibly corny, and overly patriotic, she thought. It also required a very loud, strong voice, which she didn’t have.

_“Oh, we are thankful, for the USA, yes, we are thankful, for the USA…”_

She was supposed to sing with a smile on her face, but she couldn’t quite muster one. And it was all too loud. She couldn’t think straight with all that noise.

The class started chattering more when the music teacher left for a bathroom break.

There was a dull roar of children’s voices, filling Sage’s head, making her feel disconnected. Her thoughts were fuzzy and far away. All that remained was her raw emotions. She remembered what her therapist had said that was called. Sensory overload. She was very sensitive to noise and light, so school was just about the worst environment for someone like her.

Again, someone said something about Sage - well, it seemed like it. She couldn’t really tell. But she couldn’t cry. Not after Kylie. She balled her fists, pressure building in her head. All she could think about was how much everyone hated her. Rising from her seat, Sage pivoted on her feet so that she faced the wall, and charged at it.

Then, there was a booming sound, and everyone screamed. She could hear thuds of people hitting the wall. The crowd had parted in the middle until only Sage was standing there, and she looked around to see: her chair was lodged in the ceiling, and the chairs around it lay in pieces as if a bomb had gone off. Something had gone wrong with her magic. It had never been this violent before.

With a squeak, the door opened. The music teacher had walked in. Sage could almost pinpoint the exact moment the shock set in.

For a teacher to swear in front of children, it took an event of colossal severity, and this was one of them.

She stared around the room with hard eyes. “What the hell happened here?”

At that moment, a man in a red robe hurried in behind her, looking starkly out of place. He put a finger to his lips and sprayed something from an odd-looking aerosol can around the room, and its occupants quickly slacked, their eyes glazing over. Yet Sage was completely unaffected.

Her heart beat faster. Possibilities ran through her mind. Why did he spray that stuff? Why didn’t it affect her? Was it some strange kind of punishment for making the chairs explode? Was he forcing her to watch everyone around her die, just to torture her?

 _‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’_ her mind told her, but she was still having trouble breathing, and she could feel her face going red in panic. 

“Come here,” he said, in a strangely gentle voice. And despite her reservations, she had no choice but to turn around, face toward him with her puffy eyes, and approach him.

“I’m here to tell you about magic. What I sprayed is forgetfulness potion that only works on non-magical people. Don’t worry about them, they’ll be fine after the chairs are fixed and I administer the antidote. It’s for your safety, as well as the safety of the magical world.”

Sage wasn’t the only one who could use magic?

It made sense, she supposed. She wasn’t special.

Wiping her tears, she followed him.

\---

In a school conference room, the red-robed man sat Sage down on a cushy chair, and he sat across from her.

He pulled a clipboard from somewhere in hammerspace - was that a magic thing, or did she see something wrong?

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said. “And you should, too. I’m Samuel Ruzzo. I work for the magical government: I’m one of the many wizards and witches responsible for introducing muggle-borns into the magical world - that is, witches or wizards born to non-magical parents.”

She already knew magic was real, but dang, it was shocking to see someone else who knew about it, and probably could use it himself. Not to mention an entire government.

“Sage Warren,” she said, feeling dazed, as if she were in a dream. “I - well, I knew what I could do was magic, but I didn’t know others could.”

"Most kids know they have magic," Samuel replied, "except the really unobservant on emotionally collected ones. You see, accidental magic is tied to strong emotion." 

"So what's the difference between witches and wizards? How do you know which one you are? Is there like, different types of magic they use?" 

“Females are witches, and males are wizards. Sometimes people use ‘wixen’ to refer to magicals as a whole or to neutral people. So you would most likely be a witch, unless there’s something about you that you haven’t discovered…” Samuel had a faraway look in his eyes. What did he even mean by that? And what in the world was a ‘neutral person’?

“I’m a girl,” Sage protested.

Samuel clapped his hands together. “Anyway, in the fall, you’ll attend a school for magical kids like you. More information will arrive in June. I can tell you that there’s an excellent scholarship system for muggleborns. Now, don’t whisper a word of this to anyone. The Statute of Secrecy is one of the biggest laws of the magical world, made to protect magicals and muggles from each other.” He sat back in his seat. “Any more questions?”

“Uhh… can you do some magic? So I know April Fools’ Day didn’t come late?”

Samuel pulled a polished wooden stick out of an inner pocket of his robes and waved it around lazily. Rainbow sparks lit up the plain white conference room, and Sage couldn’t help but stare. Magic was amazing.

“Anyway,” he sighed, putting his magic wand back and standing up, “that’s about all the time I have before I have to repair the chairs and everything. The forgetfulness potion should be wearing off in the next-” he checked his watch “-seven minutes.”

Sage stood up, and her legs felt a little shaky. It had been quite possibly the strangest day of her life, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

Together, they walked back to the music room, and found it exactly the way it was before: piles of plastic and metal debris, with students against the walls and a teacher in the middle of the room, all drooling with vacant expressions.

“Reparo,” said Samuel, his wand pointed at some plastic shards, and they swirled upwards and reformed themselves into a flawless school-issue chair. He repeated that until there were thirty-odd chairs in the room, good as new, like nothing had ever happened.

He waved goodbye to Sage, and promptly disappeared.

That was weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Yesssnake said trans rights.  
> Apologies if the ending seems rushed. I've been working on the first part of this chapter for months since I'm a perfectionist and I honestly just wanted to be over with it.  
> What do you think about the first chapter? Are you intrigued by the character of Sage, or do you just think she's annoying?  
> Next chapter includes jealousy, a shopping trip, and extensive reading.


End file.
